


Collateral

by flawlix



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, implied/off-screen torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2180580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawlix/pseuds/flawlix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's not stupid enough to mistake this for a negotiation. She just wants to get Wash back in as few pieces as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collateral

“Wash, what’s your time? We’re waiting on your signal.” She gives him a few seconds to respond, but he doesn’t say anything. “Still. Waiting. On you.”

Wash huffs at her across the COMfreq. “This is a little outside my area of expertise, Carolina.”

“Didn’t you take out all the electricity in a Freelancer facility on your own once?”

“Yeah, with an E.M.P.!”

“I’ve never seen anyone rig an explosive as fast as you.”

“Still not an electrician!”

“Just take out the power, Wash. It’s not that hard.”

“ _You_ take out the power,” he grumbles.

She smiles to herself, remembering a time when Agent Washington wouldn’t even think of talking back to Agent Carolina. Maybe some things have changed for the better.

There’s a faint burst of static and a yelp, then Wash lets out a long string of curses. The lights in the compound dim, the hum of electricity snapping off into sudden silence, and for a second she thinks he has it. The shields waver. But only for a second: the lights flicker back to life and the shields shimmer a hard gold in the evening light.

“Fuck,” Wash says.

“Hey, nice job,” Epsilon winks to life at her shoulder. “If they didn’t know you were in there, they sure do now. Oh, and by the way, the power is still on!”

“Go fuck yourself, Church,” Wash says absently. Another electric snap. "Ow!"

Static bursts in time with his mumbled cursing, live wires shorting out his transmissions in the milliseconds it takes his suit to ground against the electricity. Something similar used to happen when York would rewire things mid-mission. She hopes he doesn’t accidentally electrocute himself. Taps her fingers impatiently against her thigh.

More seconds tick past.

“Wash. The power. Please.”

“I’m trying! We can’t all be—“

She doesn’t get to find out what they can’t all be.

A sound like a car crash in small scale echoes through the COMfreq, then a shriek of feedback, so loud she jerks and claws at the seals of her helmet. Epsilon muffles the high-pitched screeching before it blows out her eardrums. A heavy thud. More feedback whining through the line.

Then nothing but static and ringing in her ears.

The power stays on.

“Wash? Wash, come in,” she says. She can’t hear him at all. Can’t even hear him breathing over the grey hiss of static. “Do you read me, Agent Washington? I swear to fucking God, if you’ve electrocuted yourself...”

The static cuts out.

“Wash?”

“Hello, Carolina.” A voice purrs – yes, purrs, like a smug cat – in her ears.

Not Wash. They’ve never met, but she has a name for that voice. He should not have a name for her.

“This is Agent Carolina, right?”

“Felix.”

“Oh, good,” Felix says, “Then we can skip the introductions.”

She mutes her mic. “Epsilon, get a lock on him. If he goes anywhere, I want to know about it.”

“Already on it, sis,” Epsilon says.

To Felix, she says, “Let him go, now, and I’ll think about not killing you.”

Felix laughs. “Ah, see, that’s nice and all, but to kill me, you’re going to have to catch me first.”

“That is easily arranged.”

“Not so much, no. I think your AI friend--“ (“Carolina,” Epsilon says, “ I don’t know how he’s jamming the frequency, but I can’t trace him.”)“— is going to have some trouble with that. He just told you that, didn’t he?”

 _Fuck_.

 “Listen, asshole,” Epsilon starts, but Felix interrupts him.

“Nuh-uh, parasite, I’m talking to your host, not you.”

Epsilon splutters, flickering momentarily before he gets himself under control, but he runs the numbers across her HUD. The power hub Wash is in is on the other side of the compound, and he only got there with the help of her camo unit and some excellent timing. Several dozen squads of ‘space pirates’ and a whole lot of unprotected open space stand between them. Locus is unaccounted for.

Oh, and the modified dome shield protecting the compound – the one that she sent Wash in to disable in the first place – is still in the way. 

Probability is not in their favor.

“You still with me, Carolina?”

“You should cut him off,” Epsilon says in a voice that’s more in her head than her ears. “We don’t need to find him to find Wash. We know where they are right now. We might be able to get to them before they move. Another Pelican or patrol... they have to drop the shield sometime.” He doesn’t sound convinced.

A number flashes across her HUD: 22% chance of successful rescue if they sit around waiting for the ‘space pirates’ to drop the shield again. It’s a better number than the others he’s shown her so far.

She ignores him, directs her focus on Felix. “What do you want?”

“Oh, I want a lot of things. The paychecks I’ve lost because of you would be a good start. Also, for you to stop being such a pain in the ass.”

She hears motion on the other end of the frequency, scuffling sounds transmitting through the mic. She hopes, for a second, that it’s Wash putting up a fight – but it’s not loud enough. It sounds like armor scraping against the floor, like a heavy object being dragged. Or a body.

“Right now, though,” Felix continues, “Right now I want to play a game. It’s called, ‘What does it take to break a Freelancer?’ What kind of RTI do they teach the operatives of rogue military projects, anyway?”

She doesn’t know what Felix does next, though given his predilection for combat knives, she has a few guesses. All she hears is the soft, hurt little sound Wash makes, barely enough noise to transmit through the mic. It might as well be a scream to her ears.

Here’s the thing about Wash: he does not make noises. Not even when he was Freelancer’s bright-eyed rookie. The most she’s ever heard out of him was grunt of reaction when a bullet punched through his armor and into his shoulder. When they told her how he screamed after Epsilon, she didn’t believe them until she saw the vids. Stoic in the face of injury, that’s Wash.

He’s making noises now, muffled as they are.

“You know,” Felix says casually, “You’re actually lucky I’m the one who found him. Locus – you know my partner Locus, don’t you? – he just wanted to kill him outright. He’s very disappointed in our little toy soldier here. But with me, you actually have a chance to save him.”

His smile is audible. “Or what’s left of him by the time I’m through.”

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to sound like a bad comic book villain?” Epsilon snaps before she can say anything.  

Wash makes another one of those tiny noises, and they both flinch.

“Careful, parasite,” Felix growls. “Wouldn’t want my hand to slip.”

“Will you stop calling me that?!” Epsilon’s flickering indignantly.

“Epsilon, log off,” Carolina orders.

“What?” He materializes directly in front of her. “Carolina, no, I can’t help you if I’m—“

“Log. Off.”

“But—“

“Church, please.” She mutes the mic again. “You’re making it worse.”

“How am I making it worse? It can't get any worse!”

“It can get worse,” she says. “Log off, just for a few minutes.”

He flickers again, then winks out, reduced to an angry hum in the back of her skull. The sensation of his anger vibrates through her teeth and sets her more on edge than she already is, but at least he can’t antagonize Felix. She unmutes the mic again.

“Hey, Carolina,” Felix says, like he was waiting for her to pay attention to him again. “What do you think would happen if I plugged one of these broken wires into his neural network?”

Fear washes through her, a cold surge from her throat to the tips of her fingers.

“Don’t,” she says before she can stop herself.

“All those delicate wires right in his brain. Do you think it would kill him or would he start talking? Locus tells me he said such interesting things when Dr. Grey was rewiring the inside of his head. All she had to do was tweak a wire, and he opened right up.”

“What?” The word rips from her, low and shocked.

“Ooohhh, you didn’t know?” She didn’t know it was possible for him to sound more smug. She was wrong. “Traitors, traitors everywhere, Carolina. How do you think we knew you would be here today?”

Her stomach clenches. “You’re lying.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. You can’t know for certain.”

She is certain, though. Probably. Maybe. An image of CT comes to mind, unbidden. She shakes her head to erase the thought.

Focus. Save Wash. Worry about everything –- everyone -- else later.

“Enough of this,” she says. “ You want something. What is it?”

“The A.I.”

He answers so quickly, so succinctly, that it takes her a moment to respond. “You want Epsilon? Why? You don’t need him to run your equip--”

“Oh, no. _I_ don’t want him. No, thank you. But my employer does.”  

She doesn’t need to think about it. Whatever they’re doing, these ‘space pirates’ and mercenaries and whoever their employer is, they don’t need an A.I. to help them. As if she would ever consider giving Church up anyway.

“No.”

“Okay,” he says.

The next thing she hears is a gunshot.

Time slows down between one heartbeat and the next, or maybe her heart just stops for a second.

“Wash! No!” He’s dead. She’s gotten him killed. Christ, she can’t breathe. She got him killed. “I’m going to kill you, mercenary. I’m gonna hunt you down and kill you slowly. You’re not the only one who knows how to use knives.”

“Oh, shut up, Freelancer,” Felix snaps. “Are all of you this melodramatic? As if I would give up my bargaining chip that easily. He’s alive. He might have a little trouble walking, though.”

She says nothing, just breathes, a hand pressed to her chest like she can reach through armor and flesh and bone to stop her pounding heart. Epsilon appears again, roused by the adrenaline pumping through her. He looks about as concerned as his little armored avatar can manage. She gestures at him to stay quiet.

“Tell you what, Carolina. I’ll give you an hour to decide what you’re gonna do, and I won’t touch a single fake blond hair on Agent Washington’s head. Every hour after that, though... I’ll leave it up to your imagination.”

The son of a bitch sounds so pleased with himself. If she could reach through the radio, she’d strangle him with her bare hands.

“How—“ she stops, clears her throat. “How do I know he’s still alive?”

“Oh, right. Hey, Wash? Say ‘hi.’”

There’s rustling on the other end of the mic, and suddenly she can hear Wash breathing. It’s heavy and labored, but she has a lot of practice listening to him breathe on the other end of a COMfreq. It’s him.

“Carolina.” He sounds dazed and in pain, but his voice is clear enough. “Don’t. Whatever he—“

“Stop being dramatic, Wash.”

She wants to say something cliché, like ‘be strong’ or ‘we’re coming for you.’ Or maybe ‘it’ll be alright.’ The words stick in her throat. Lying to her squad is not something she does, and he’s not that naïve anyway.

He starts to speak again. Felix yanks the mic away from him.

“See? He’s fine. Ish. Your hour starts now.”

“Hey, Felix?” she says before he can cut her off. “I’m coming for you.”

“Save it for someone who’s impressed,” he sneers, and cuts the frequency.

Static again. She wastes a couple minutes of her precious hour calming herself down, getting her thoughts under control so she can make a plan. When she can think clearly, she stands up, shaking out the stiff ache in her bad leg.

“This is a trap,” Epsilon says.

“I know.”

“He’s not gonna let you walk away. Or Wash.”

“I _know_.”

“Okay, okay. Just making sure you’re aware. That it’s a trap.”

“ _Epsilon_!”

"Sorry." 

She takes a deep breath, in through her nose, out through her mouth, then once more for good measure.

“Church. Start figuring out a way to get us all out of this _alive_. I’m going to radio Tucker’s team, tell them to fall back.”

“Carolina...” For once he sounds completely serious. “This is going to take more than an hour.”

“I know,” she says grimly. “You’d better get to work.”

“Oh, please. I started while you were freaking out. I’m just working out the details.”

She switches her radio over to Tucker’s frequency and prepares to explain to him how she lost the Blue Team leader. Pauses. Remembers there's one variable she doesn't want Epsilon thinking about.

“Oh, and Church? Get _us_ out alive. I don’t care about the fucking mercenary.”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving him alive.” For a moment, when she looks at him, she sees a different A.I. and his anger lights up the inside of her skull like a grenade. It matches her own.

“Good.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Concrit is welcome.


End file.
